A Strange New World
by angelofmusic665
Summary: Kristen Chagney is an ordinary 17 year old in the 1980s.Her life changes drastically after a strange discovery in her attic.Add to that, a fateful accident in the night.Can she look past the horror to find the beauty of true love?
1. Through the Barrier

please review guys, cuz i dont like to go through the trouble of posting this, if no one is reading it. oh yea, and you can criticize me too! lol yay.Sorry, no Erik in this chapter, but he is going to be in it ALOT in the next few.Thanks! 

I walked to the stage of the opera house, amidst the thunderous applause and enthusuiastic shouts of my name. My beauty was radiant and there was an aura of blissful glory surrounding me, as I took my respective place on the piano bench on the stage of the glittering, luxurious opera house. As soon as my fingers found their home on the piano keys, a hush went over the audience as though they were hypnotized by the sound of me. My clear voice rang through the air, as beautiful and as delicate as the tinkling of the chimes on the gigantic chandelier above me. As the song ended, it was as though a spell had been lifted from the audience and they broke out into a roaring applause, even louder than before.  
"Brava, Kristen, Brava!" they shouted my name. "Kristen!", "Kristen!", Their faces began to blur and fade away...

I could still hear my name being shouted for some reason. "Kristen!" the voices all turned into one voice, and that one voice turned out to be, none other than my father, Charles Chagny.

"Kristen, get a move on it! Your going to be late for school"

I groaned and shut my eyes again, hoping to relive that dream for just one more moment.

But harsh reality would not allow that, along with the realization that I am going to be late for school as it is.

I got out from under the warm sanctuary that my bed provides and faced the day.

I looked at my face in the bathroom mirror, and the girl staring back at me had long, curly sleep tousled hair, pale skin, and oh..a recent addition. A zit on my nose. I snorted.

"Yea, I'm a real radiant beauty", I said aloud, still thinking about my vivid dream.

I quickly pulled on a pair of cuffed, straightleg jeans, a white tanktop, and put my thick hair back into its usual, slighty messy ponytail.

I looked at myself in the full length mirror and sighed with discontentment at my appearance.

"Who am I expecting, royalty? Theres no one at school to impress anyway", I consoled myself as I galloped down the stairs at high speed, almost going out the front door without my lunch.

My dad stood there holding it, with a look of mock concern on his face.

"What would you do without me Kris?", he said, handing me my lunch.

"Go out in public," I replied sarcastically, causing both of us to laugh.

"I love you Kris, have a good day"

" I love you too Dad", I said , kissing him on the cheek.

I dearly love my dad. You see, my mum died when I was three years old, so its just been me and him for all these years. Fourteen and a half years to be exact.

I am 17 and a half and a senior at high school, in London.

My father is more than a father to me, he's a friend and I am closer to him that I am with anyone in the world, with the two exceptions of my best friends, Olivia and Lindsay.

Friends and family were few in my life, but Olivia, Lindsay, and my father mean so much to me that I consider myself lucky.

I scrambled to my seat in homeroom and luckily the teacher's back was turned, so he didnt see me sneak in.

Apparantly, no one else noticed either, as no one even looked up as I sat down at my desk.

Livy and Linds were not in my homeroom and I did not belong in any of the tightly formed cliques, whose conversations flowed behind me, beside me, and in front of me, but none of them inviting me to join in.

Amazing how you can be in a crowd of people, yet feel so alone, I thought.

I know of a great way to pass the time. I pulled my old, battered copy of the book, The Phantom of the Opera out of my bag.

This is my favorite story of all time, I have read the book at least 50 times.

My father and I both share a deep love for this story, and often we take turns reading it to each other at night after dinner.

It has become something of a ritual. Then, before I go to sleep, my father plays the violin. It is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard, like it is straight from heaven.

The shrill bell jolted me from my musings, making me jump.

The day passed in an uneventful blur. Funny how the populars always seemed to be having a great time, mostly by ridiculing those poor saps who are unfortunate enough to be labeled as a nerd. They did not see me as a nerd, exactly.

They just saw me as "that one girl in English class."

I wistfully stared at a couple passionately making out in the hallway.

I have never had a boyfriend in all my 17 years.

Kind of embarrassing, really. I've just never found the right guy for me, I suppose.

"Kris!", I heard Livy's familiar voice shout out behind me,

"Can you make it _any_ more obvious that your scoping out that couple? "

I blushed. "Guess I didn't realize what I was doing."

"Yea, suuuure", she replied, laughing. "So come on, I'm taking you home today"

In the car Livy started in on her usual advice about my appearance.

"Kris, you would be so pretty if you just spent time fixing yourself up a little. You have that kind of old fashioned beauty that not many people have. Like, wear your hair down sometimes and wear makeup! Your hair is so curly and long, it would look great."

This was not an uncommon argument between me and the painfully gorgeous and fashionable Olivia. I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"That time before school that I _dont_ spend primping, I spend getting extra sleep and I, for one, cherish that extra sleep!"

We pulled up to the driveway of my own slightly shabby flat.

Livy smiled, "Alright, I get it, and I officially give up on you!"

I smiled back, "Good."

"I'll call ya!", Livy said as I closed the door.

Home, finally! Now, I shall spend time with my one true love, I thought, running upstairs to my room.

Dad was still at work, so I had the house to myself.

Every day after school, I spend time with my keyboard and lose myself in the music that I make. My fingers moved rhythmically and purposefully over the keys, and my sopranos voice rang out, lovely and clear.

This was a song that I had written myself, and I liked how it turned out.

Like some beautiful aria you would hear at an opera in the 1800s.

Oh, how I wished to live in those days, swirling around the ballroom in the arms of a charming young man, not some pervert that I'm surrounded by at school every day.

I like to pretend that I'm Christine Daae whenever I sing. Dumb,I know, but I think she is the luckiest girl in the world, having Erik as her opera teacher.

I wish that someone would make music or something to Leroux's cherished book, so then I could learn it, and somehow feel a part of it.(A/N at this time time period, ALW had not yet written the musical, just in case you were wondering)

As the song progressed, I forgot about everything. I closed my eyes, and just became one with the music, loving its beauty.

I was in another world.

Until the end of the song, where I had written in an extremely high note, and I had thought that maybe I could nail it.

My voice cracked, bringing me back to the real world. I opened my eyes, angry. I sat there, silently fuming.

I would _kill_ to have an opera teacher, but there is no way we could afford that.

I have great potential as a singer. Though, I would never say that to anyone else at the risk of sounding arrogant, I know that much is true.

And with an opera tutor to help develop my voice, who knows what new heights my voice could reach?

I threw myself on my bed and screamed into my pillow in frustration.

Didn't help.

Downstairs, the front door opened, and I picked myself up off my bed and went downstairs to greet my father.

"How was school?", my dad asked, giving me a hug.

I shrugged. ""It was school. How was work?"

He shrugged. "It was work." We grinned at each other.

"Reading our favorite story yet again?", he asked, looking at the POTO book that I had brought down with me.

"Of course," I said, thinking that that was a dumb question.

"Well, I'm glad that your so interested in some of the history of our family."

My dad has told me a million times of how we are descendants of the Chagny family.

I rolled my eyes."Thanks dad, for trying to make this book more real to me, but I know its just a story."

"You used to believe me."

"Dad, I was seven. I'm not a kid anymore. I can distinguish between reality and fantasy. I know that we are part french and that is how we got the last name of Chagny. But Christine and Raoul and the angel of music are not real. It is just a wonderful, but made up story."

My dad looked at me with what looked like pity and a little sadness in his eyes. "Well, it is true. And it did happen. I just hope that someday you will believe in it all. Especially in the angel of music, Erik."

I didnt know what to say, so I remained silent.

"Well", my dad said, clearly, wanting to change the subject, "how about I play a little violin tonight?"

My spirits rose, "Yes! that sounds great!"

"But first, I have a chore for you. I'd like you to clean out the attic. Theres alot of stuff up there that needs to be organized. I'd do it myself, but I have some yardwork to do before it gets dark."

"Dad! thats a _huge_ chore!", I said stubbornly, "Who cares what the attic looks like?"

"I do. You'll survive."

"No I wont", I said babyishly, and frowned at him.

My dad smiled at me. "love you Kris."

I half smiled at him, "I guess I love you too," i joked.

I begrudgingly started my way up the long flight of stairs.

I cautiously stepped into the cobweby, musty attic. Its so weird that with all the four years that we have lived here, I have never been up here before.

I found the string and pulled, and the room was dimly illuminated.

The dull light cast eerie, spidery shadows across a surprisingly large room.

A chill ran the length of my spine causing me to shiver.

There was something about this room that was...I dont know.. I couldnt put my finger on it.

It was almost as if it were...magical.

I laughed aloud at myself for being so childish. The day I start believing in "magical" things is the day I become a famous opera singer, I thought cynically. I brushed away some dust off the floor so I could sit down.

"Alright, first things first," I said aloud, and grabbed the box nearest to me.

A tiny one.

I opened it and my blue eyes widened as I took out what looked to be an old fashioned music box, though a very dusty and cobweby one.

I cleaned it off with the bottom of my shirt and stared at it, a small smile playing on my lips.

It was a barrel-organ, with a cymbal playing monkey attached to it. It was quite charming looking. I wondered if father knew this was up here.

I twisted the bottom of it as far as it would go and listened. I got those strange chills again as I listened to the enchanting little melody that it emitted.

I loved how it sounded and I listened to it three more times. It seemed like it was more than just a music box.

Like it held many secrets of the past.

Why am I thinking like this? I shook my head and began to sort through various other things, humming the tune under my breath nonetheless.

Eventually, I came across a very large item in the corner, that had been hidden in the shadows.

It was covered with a white sheet. I reached out to pull it off, then froze.

I felt a strong sense of foreboding as to what might be under there.

Suddenly, I was nervous.

Then, feeling foolish for acting childish yet again, I boldly whipped off the sheet. It was a large oval mirror.

I laughed at myself for being scared of a mirror.

A beautiful mirror at that. I stared at the intricate golden designs that framed the old fashioned looking mirror.

Finally, I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

But the person who stared back at me through the mirror was not me.

I screamed and jumped backwards, tripping over a box and landing painfully on my back.

"Everything ok up there?", came the voice of my father.

I did not answer.

What in the world is going on, I thought wildly, not daring to look in the mirror.

Curiosity did get the better of me, and I took another look in the mirror and realized that the girl who stared back at me, _was_ me.

But at the same time she was not.

She had my build, she had my hair and eyes, but it ended there.

This girl wore a stunningly exquisite dress, the kind that you would only see at grand balls years and years ago, with the tight bodice showing off her slender curves and the full, ankle length skirts.

The blue of the dress matched her eyes. Or should I say my eyes, for every time I moved she moved too.

"But it can't be", I said aloud, as I stared down at myself.

Yes.

I am still wearing my plain clothes and my hair is still a mess. This girl's hair was long, brown and curly like mine, but she clearly took care of her hair.

It was down, the glossy and volumptuous curls cascading down her back, and her face looked lovely with thetasteful makeup.

I want to be this girl in the mirror, I thought with such sudden determination that I surprised myself.

"Kristen, are you ok up there?", my father was halfway up the stairs to the attic.

Again, I did not answer, for a sudden thought had come to me.

A thought so wild and breathtaking that I hardly believed it possible.

I slowly started walking towards the mirror, as though in a trance.

From the deepest recesses of my mind, I could vaguely hear my father pounding on the door to the attic.

"Kristen, answer me! How can this door be locked? It only locks from the outside! What are you doing in there?"

I was right in front of the mirror now, and I timidly reached my hand forward, prepared to feel the cold, solid surface of the mirror, but to my utter amazement my hand went through as if there was nothing there but air!

And then it happened immediately, and I had no time to think.

I was jerked irresistably forward and my feet left the ground.

I was speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color, my hand still reaching forward as though it was pulling me magnetically onward, and then...

My feet slammed onto solid ground.

I was left staggering by the force at which I had stopped, and I toppled, butt first onto the ground, in a very non-graceful manner.

My heart pounding, I looked in the sliding mirror on the wall and my reflection was just as I had suspected.

I now looked exactly like the girl that had been in the mirror in my attic and, I thought with a grimace, I am most definitely wearing a corset.

What is going on, I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs, but instead I studied myself in the mirror, and an involuntary smile spread across my face, as I admired the dress.

It _is_ awfully gorgeous.

I took in my new surroundings, and realized that I am in someone's bedroom.

Someone that has moved out, I noticed, as the room was completely empty and void of any personal belongings, and I got the feeling that no one has been in this room for quite some time.

Even so, the room was beautifully furnished. Like some small bedroom from back in the 1800s, I thought with a rush of excitement.

Curious to see if any other dresses were in here, I slid open the mirror to what I thought would be a closet, but instead was a long pitch black hallway.

Chills went down my spine. It was like a secret passageway.

But to what?

The light from the room permeated some of the darkness, so I could just make out the beginning of a long, stone passageway and there was a row of unlit torches mounted on both sides of the hallway.

Thinking that all of this was some elaborate, extremely vivid dream, I decided to explore this before I wake up in my boring bed back home.

I started to walk through the entrance but stopped myself.

I could not go exploring in this dress!

It would be ruined for sure.

I glanced back into the room and was startled to find that my old jeans and tank top were lying on my bed, neatly folded.

"Odd dream, this is", I murmured, as I changed back into my old clothes and carefully laid the dress on the bed.

I stopped to admire my new hair and makeup once more before stepping through the barrier into complete and utter darkness.

Little did I know, as a stranger to this dark and mysterious world, that Iwas most unwelcome in it.

ooooOOOOoooo.You actually read down this far! I worship you. I am like those little green guys in toy story, in awe of you guys. lol yeaa anyways, plz r&r, for there is much Erik yet to come.


	2. The Angel of Darkness

**I hope you guys enjoy this, and if you do please review! and if you dont...well please review anyway, cuz i always appreciate criticism as well. OH and I have been wondering something, and it would be great if you can answer me. What isa Mary Sue character? I have read reviews that talk about this, and from what i read she is an annoying character. If my character Kristen, is at alla "Mary Sue", please do tell me and I will try to change that. Thanks alot guys, Ciao!**

As soon as I walked through the mirror and entered the stone passageway, the mirror slid shut behind me with a firm click. I turned around and tried to open it back up again, but it would not budge.

I was surprisingly not frightened by this, perhaps because I was still certain that this was a dream and nothing more.

Slow as a snail, I felt my way along in the darkness taking tiny and timid steps and wishing there was a light switch within reach.

The passage twisted this way and that and with each stumbling step I grew more panic-stricken and less positive that this was a dream.

Is there any human existence in this strange world at all? Or am I going to wander to my death here, in this cold and total darkness?

The moments spent in these passageways were strung together, futile and despairing, like the continued silence between my pounding heartbeats.

Finally, as I took another step, the hard stone that I expected to step on, was no longer there and my foot was completely submerged in frigid water.

I jumped back, startled, and my wet shoe slid on the stone and, feet flying in the air, I landed on my back.

Knowing full well what a total _idiot_ I had looked like, I instinctively looked around to make sure no one had seen me. Then I laughed aloud.

Of course no one had seen me! My laughter echoed creepily, and I quickly stopped.

Wait a minute, I thought, I felt that coldness. I still feel it. If this was truly a dream, that would have woken me up. I panicked.

"Can anyone hear me?", I screamed, " Is there anyone out there?"

The echo of my screams was my only reply. I brightened at a sudden thought.

Maybe, these passageways will lead me back to the attic. Maybe I'm in some weird underground tunnel underneath my house! In retrospect, these really were foolish thoughts, but I was willing to believe anything.

Well, I thought, only one thing I can do to get out of here. Good thing I'm a good swimmer. And with that, I plunged into the freezing, murky waters of what looked like an underground lake.

I gasped at how unbelievably _cold_ the water was, like thousands of knives stabbing you all over your body.

So much for finally getting my hair to look pretty, I thought, as I pushed the soaken,curly locks out of my face.

I began swimming, having no idea where these waters would take me.

My feet can't touch the bottom, I thought, what if something in this water eats me? I swam faster, still not being able to see anything.This is the weirdest day of my life, I thought, whilst swimming vigorously.

Suddenly I stopped, my feet still moving, to keep me above the water.

Did I just hear something? No, of course not, how could I hear--" The answer to my questions stopped me mid-thought.

In the distance, I can hear music! A strange and haunting melody, that awakened in me a response that I have never felt before, to any music.

Someone...Someone is down here making music?

It was unlike anything I have ever heard before. My usual logic and rational thinking abandoned me. I knew I was not delirious, and not hearing things. I followed the sound, swimming towards it with such determination, that I felt like my life depended on it.

I _must_ find the maker of this music.

The closer I got, the louder the music became, til I could feel it all around me, sweeping me up in its mesmerizing beauty.

After what felt like years, I could finally see a faint light at the end of the passageway. I cautiously swam closer and gasped at the sight. I could just make out the source of the light.

Hundreds of candles lit, a haven in this undending darkness I had experienced.

Am I in heaven? Am I dead? Wild thoughts ran through my mind as I swam closer and closer. The room where the music was coming from was...amazing.

Candelabras were everywhere, an odd sort of mist now hung above the lake like a blanket, and there were huge velvety curtains that hung in front of a massive iron gate which was shut. And a pipe organ. A large, beautiful organ was the finishing touch on this odd kingdom of music.

But my attention was immediately diverted to the figure sitting at the organ, swaying slightly as he put his heart and soul into his music.

I was finally there. The water got more and more shallow and soon I could stand up. I put my hands around the gate which was barring me any further entrance into this lair. Only then, did I realize how tired and weak I was and my body sagged slightly but my hands clung tightly to the gate, holding me up.

Now that I was closer, I could tell that the man playing the piano was slender and dressed in black. Because his back was turned to me, that was all I could see.I didn't know what to do. I did not know what would happen if I interrupted this, by calling out.

Cold to the bone and soaked as I was, I almost would have been content to just stand here and listen to this seductive melody, as cool and haunting as the flicker of the candlelight, as smooth as the path of silver across the lake.

_Almost_. But I was beginning to shiver violently.

So, I opened my mouth and timidly called out,"hello, excuse me?"

He made not the slightest indication that he had heard me, so I tried again, this time louder, "Excuse me?", I shouted.

Immediately, the music stopped. It was dead silent.

I honestly thought my heart was going to hammer through my chest, it was pounding so hard.

The dark figure looked up, and slowly turned around. I could not see his face, it was hidden in the shadows and I was still a little too far away.

"Please sir", my voice trembled slightly,"i'm sorry to have interrupted, but I need your help."

He remained silent, this silence far more terrifying than the darkness. I saw the man in black stand up and purposefully walk over to a lever which he pulled.

The gate immediately began to rise and more water poured down from it, soaking my head yet again. I felt a little stupid, for he had most surely seen that.

"Come in", he uttered in a gruff and slightly threatening voice.

I reluctantly walked into the lair, still knee high in water and, following his beckoning, over to where he stood on the dry rock above me. For a moment, he just stood there, arms folded, staring down at me. I still could not see his face.

"Have a pleasant swim, ma cherie?" he finally asked in a cold leer.

I knew I looked like a drownd rat, but he didn't have to rub it in. I tried to think of something defiant yet clever to say, to take the dripping sarcasm out of his voice, so I said the best thing I could come up with,

"Yes."

I groaned inwardly.

He reached down with a strong looking arm, grabbed me by the wrists, and pulled me up out of the water to stand directly in front of him.

"By what right are you here?", he snarled,"do you know what happens to those who dare interrupt my solitude?"

His voice was very powerful and very beautiful and it echoed off the walls, making it positively booming.

I swallowed hard, and began talking very fast, "I'm sorry, but your music was so inspiring that I couldn't help but want to hear more of it. Also, I'm--" I didn't quite know how to explain my current situation.

"Your...what? Your curious, are you? Wanted to have a look at my face, did you?", his voice grew louder and louder. He still had my puny wrist in his iron grip. Pain shot up my arm, but I didn't let on.

"Well, why don't you let me see your face? Who are you?"

He let out a humorless laugh, "You know who I am, young miss. Why else would you venture down to these dark depths of my tortured soul?", he sounded like he bordered on insanity, "Well, you have found me. You have found the opera ghost!"

My mouth fell open. Just what did this guy think he was playing at? Did he really think he was _the phantom of the opera_?

"I don't know where I am! What is going on? Is this a dream?", I kept spouting out questions, knowing that I had gone slightly crazy myself.

The tall, dark figure in front of me suddenly threw me onto the stone floor. I cried out in pain.

"Silence!", he roared.

I took some shaky breathes, willing myself not to cry in front of this maniac.

"I don't think much of your manners, sir" I said quietly, holding my knee, which was probably bruised.

"Is that so? Well, I am sorry you feel this way", he said sarcastically, "but I don't think much of young girls who do not use their full brain capacity. Refrain yourself from asking your silly questions. Its rather annoying."

I took a deep breath, and opened my mouth to speak, hoping to make more sense this time. If any sense could be made of all this.

"I'm sorry that I intruded on your domain, but I didn't come down here just to get a look at you. I,too, have a love for music, and I couldn't help but be drawn in here." And then I asked my dreaded question,

"Is this the year 1818?"

The silence that followed my question gave away his surprise, and he seemed to have some indecision on whether to mock me for, what seemed to him, a dumb question. Guess he decided not to.

"No."

I sighed in relief.

"It is 1819"

I gasped. _1819_! I felt dizzy and kind of sick**.(A/N I am horrible with dates so I dont know if this is the right one, but basically I want this to take place 2 years after Christine left him with Raoul)**

"Oh my God", I whispered. I looked up at the dark, mysterious man in front of me, whose face was still hidden in shadows.

"Erik", I said quietly.

"You spoke my name. How do you know my name?", he asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

I had the weirdest sensation. Like I was dreaming, but now I knew I was not. I would not feel dizzy or sick if I was dreaming. I would not feel the cold seeping into my bones.

"I...uh..you...er..", I mumbled something incoherent.

"Wait", he said suddenly,"before we say anything else, I would prefer to see the person with who I am speaking."

Yea, same here, I thought, but did not dare to say aloud for fear of what he would do to me. He is a murderer after all, I thought grimly.

And with that, he reached down, grabbed my upper arm, and pulled me abruptly to my feet. We walked the short trek to the lit portion of his lair, he half dragging me.

My clumsy feet tripped all over the place in the darkness, but I noticed that he walked gracefully, trusting the darkness. He did not even watch his step.

We stopped next to the organ, and he roughly thrusted me into the dim candlelight to get a look at me. For some reason, I suddenly felt shy, and I stared at the ground. Then, ever so slowly, I started to look up.

My eyes took in his slender body, completely dressed in black. Only then, did I realize how tall he is. I only came up to a little past his shoulders.

Finally, I lifted my gaze to his face.

For a few seconds, we just stared at each other. It seemed like it lasted an eternity. I have never before been so intrigued by someone's looks. He had jet black hair that was slicked back and it added sharp contrast to his pale skin.

And his eyes. His piercing, emerald green eyes, truly were the window to his soul. There was much sadness in his eyes, and my heart ached for him.

Right now though, it looked like he was in somewhat of a trance.

His eyes bored into mine and his mouth was slightly open. I certainly can't look very beautiful right now, I thought logically, so why's he staring at me like I'm the most exquisite of flowers?

"You look...so much like...", his voice had taken on a soft,gentle tone, which I had not thought possible from him.

Then it hit me. I look like Christine. Thats why he is staring at me like that.

"_Leave_!", he said so forcefully and so suddenly that I jumped.

"What?", I whispered, bewildered.

"You heard me! Go now and leave my rotting soul in its lonely misery! Consider it that you have fate on your side that I did not kill you. Now go!"

He turned to look at me dead on so now I could finally see the right side of his face, and the white mask that covered it. He advanced on me and I slowly backed up, frightened.

"You demon! Why do you look like her and why do you know my name? You were sent here to torture me! Haven't I suffered enough?" His elegant features were contorted with anger and despair.

His eyes hold all the sadness of the world, I thought.

Standing there not but an inch in front of me, I thought how tall and strong he is and how tired and weak I am. He could easily kill me right now, I thought, as I was backed into a corner against the piano.

Yet somehow, I do not think that Erik could bring himself to kill me, since I so much resemble his lost love. That thought gave me a little surge of boldness.

"Erik", I said softly, "I am not Christine, nor am I a demon sent here to torture you. I _was_ sent here however, But for a different reason, I believe to help both of us."

Erik's stark, green eyes narrowed, "And what reason might that be?"

I took a deep breath and stared hard into his eyes, "For you to teach me to sing."

**Sorry, kind of a weird place to end but i didnt want the chapter to be too long. and that "fateful accident in the night" will be happening very soon.PLZ R&R guys. Tata for now!**


	3. The Angel of Music

**It has taken me an incredibly long time to add this chapter, but I'll save you guys from all of the reasons why..And this is rather short, but I am not abandoning this fic..And alot of action stuff is going to happen with the next few chapters..just wait and see:)I'll be updating more often now, so please R&R.**

Erik looked taken aback and then, to my surprise, he smirked. Closest thing to a smile I've seen yet.

"Of course, little girl, you wantErik to teach you to sing so that you can become the next diva of the opera", he said with a derisive snort,"well, I do not see

any benefit in that for me, and I doubt that you have true talent anyway."

"First of all," I began, putting on a bold front, "I am _not_ a little girl, I'm seventeen! And I think I could help you

too. Just by companionship, your always all alone down here. You need something to do before you go

_completely_ crazy", he opened his mouth furiously but I cut him off and kept going.

"And how do you know that I am talentless before you have even heard me! Please Erik, you don't do anything else down here." I couldn't

believe that I was practically begging the infamous opera ghost to give me lessons!

Is this surreal or what?

I'm sure that I am blushing furiously.

His eyes flashed with anger, "You have some nerve.I am very busy", he said defiantly.

I ignored his statement and continued.

"Teaching me might get your mind off of Christine, and perhaps will help you to move on."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them. I was frightened, for I knew that I had overstepped my boundaries.

However, he did not lay a hand on me, he just stood there,arms folded, staring down at me as though I was a mildly interesting specimen.

"Interesting, _little girl_, how you seem to have all of the answers. Just remember, that only a fool talks blindly," then he added in a low and threatening tone,"for you know _nothing_ of my feelings for Christine."

I was scared of him, yet at the same time I did not think he was going to kill me.

I suddenly realized again how utterly exhausted and cold and tired I was. I feel like I'm going to pass out, I thought, shivering. But I willed myself not to. That would look really weak of me, and I vaguely thought of how heroines in old-fashioned stories faint alot.

I thought of my father and if I would ever see him again, or be forever stuck in this strange,dark world.

Tears came to my eyes as I thought of all the times he tried to tell me about the angel of music and how I brushed him off, not believing him.

Crazy as my situation is, it is my only chance to do the one thing I truly love and become the person I want to be.

I looked at Erik.

"Take me...teach me," I said softly. It was all I could muster for I was hit with another wave of fatigue.

And unexpected tears.

I tried to stop, unnoticed, but the tears started running down my cheeks.

Erik's look of anger slowly faded from his face and his green,glowing eyes widened.

They were the kind of tears that also brought sobbing and gasping and no matter how hard I tried to stop, I just couldn't.

Erik watched me in horror for a moment.

Then, regaining his composure, he put his hand awkwardly on my shoulder.

"You don't have to cry. It is alright.Erik isnot going to hurt you."

I could tell he was frustrated by my present immaturity, but his voice had become gentle at least. It was beautiful, soft as velvet, and very soothing.

He sighed.

"Look, I can see that you are not in a state to talk reasonably right now--"

I let out an involuntary hiccup and Erik stopped talking and stared at me for a second, clearly torn between being amused and exasperated with me.

He continued.

"But tommorrow, you _will_ explain everything."

I nodded.

My tears had somewhat subsided, mostly due to his soothing voice.

"Right then, well come on."

And with a swish of his cape, he led me into his extraordinary, gothic looking home.

The inside of his house was as beautiful as the outside.

I walked to the room at the end of the very long hallway and put my hand on the doorknob.

Erik quickly grabbed my wrist.

"Do _not_ go in there", he hissed.

Then, as if fearful that I would start crying again, he quickly dropped my wrist and his tone swiftly changed.

"I mean, you will be staying in this other room", he said in a somewhat gentler tone and he gestured to another door.

I wondered vaguely why I couldn't go in that room but was too tired to ponder it any further.

Erik opened the door and lightly put his hand on the small of my back as I drearily walked in ahead of him.

It was a fairly small room and I noticed there were no mirrors or windows anywhere.

I felt like I was going to be kept prisoner.

That sudden thought alarmed me, and I turned around quickly and noticed that Erik had been watching me.

He swiftly shifted his gaze away from me.

"Erik, what--"

He cut me off.

"Goodnight, mademoiselle."

And with that, he slammed the door shut...and locked it.

I was appalled. He locked the door on me!

I pounded on the door to try to get him to come back.

I pounded and pounded but to no avail.

For I heard the organ again.

Of all the nerve!

He was playing the organ, no doubt, to drown out the sound of my pounding.

He was certainly irritating.

I looked at the bed. It looked so very inviting for my weary body.

I might as well get some rest, I thought.

Oh swell, I have nothing to wear, and I really don't want to get in bed with my still damp clothes on.

Well, I thought naughtily, its not like Erik is going to come in here, I'll just sleep in the nude!

I laughed a little as I stripped off my dingy clothes and crawled into the warm bed.

"Aah, such bliss", I said aloud, and instantly my eyelids drooped.

He was still playing the organ into the night.

Sleep waited behind my door like an all-encompassing fog.

But there was Erik's music, that strange and beautiful music.

As I lay there on the bed, I let it sweep me away and with its increasing power, it took over the edges of my mind and crept relentlessly toward its core.

And then I thought no more.

**Yea yea, this was a boring chapter, but I promise it is going to get more excitng with the next few...It may get a little violent in later chapters , so just a forewarning to everyone who doesn't like that kind of stuff. thanx for reading, please review :)**


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